May the Odds Be Ever In Your Favor
by Systematic Overload
Summary: Welcome to the Seventy Third Hunger Games! Rachel Berry and Noah Puckerman are forced to fight to the death for the enjoyment of the Capitol. For one to live, the other must die. AU Puckleberry based on The Hunger Games.


_Welcome! This is an AU Hunger Games styled Puckleberry fanfiction. I hope you enjoy!_

_*I've dedicated this story in its __entirety to Shannon. She makes sure I follow my schedule and kicks my butt to keep me in shape. We're going to win the games together, bb. But only if you feed my ego while we're there. If you don't... you're going to the mutts._

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><p><em>Prologue<em>

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." -Effie Trinket.

"Please give me your hand," the Peacekeeper instructed, holding her hand out with impatient. It was standard procedure, the blood tests to ensure identities and the check-in process. It happened every year at the District Twelve Reaping, just as it probably happened in the other eleven districts without question.

The Hunger Games. It sounded vicious and cruel to any ear, but to the citizens of Panem, it was a fact of life. It ensured the compliance and obedience of the districts, it reduced the risk of another war. Rebellion stood no chance when the Capitol had the ability to pluck children from their families, forcing them to fight and kill one another for even the chance at survival. That was the entire point, and although it was presented in such a sweet manner, every citizen knew the truth. They were owned by the capitol, completely owned and forced to bend at their will. Ever since the war, ever since everyone turned on each other, that was how things were supposed to be.

"I said give me your hand," the woman snarled, reaching out and gripping the pale arm tightly, her gloved fingers curling over creamy skin.

Rachel tried her very hardest not to wince at the anger in the touch. She had grown accustomed to this. Every year for the past five, she walked the same path with the other children, awaiting the fate of one boy and one girl. Every year, her fathers huddled in the back, praying that their baby's name wasn't called. This was what life had become.

The prick to her finger was expected, still, it hurt no less than the previous years. Roughly, the guard pressed her finger against the paper, letting her hand go the second the blood stained the page. In a swift motion, the detector was sweeping across the book, and the Peacekeeper was ushering her away and into the moving line of children.

At the next table over, a male Peacekeeper sat going through the same motions with Noah Puckerman. He was District Twelve's resident bad boy. He was the boy that was always getting into trouble, often being dragged away by the Peacekeeper for hearings that he considered jokes. For the first time this year, there was no smile on his face, no smirk curling his lips. Every year, he grew serious on the day of the reaping. There wasn't a time for a joke when there was the threat of being forced to kill others just to survive. There was no need to be happy, there wasn't a single reason to be happy.

Within minutes, he was disappearing into the crowd, walking solemnly over to the boys' side of the town center. Although there were plenty of children between them, as soon as Rachel's eyes locked on his Mohawk, she couldn't pull her gaze from his general area.

They had a history. For years, they had watched each other. He was jealous of her effortless way of life, almost as if she never had to think about consequences. She was jealous of his ability to forget about the world, to pretend that the world around them wasn't crumbling in front of their eyes. He was the boy that snuck her food that his mother made, and in turn, she looked the other way when he managed to get into trouble at school. Ever since they had both turned twelve, she had prayed that his name would never be called. He prayed that her name would never be called.

Silently, she tore her gaze away, following the younger kids, reaching out to calm their fears as they were herded like cattle ready for slaughter. That's exactly what they were to the Capitol: cattle, disposable. Twenty-three deaths meant nothing to those in charge. It wasn't frowned upon. It was considered a sport, and perhaps it was that thought alone that made both Rachel and Noah sick to their stomachs.

A woman dressed in vibrant purple, her hair light lavender, took the stage, the clack of her heels echoing across the platform. No one dared to say a word, not in fear of the Peacekeepers. This was the moment of truth, the moment when everything would change. The speech would be given as it was every year before now, the same as it was all those times before, and then the names would be drawn. Effie would ask for applause, to cheer for the tributes that were bound to die, and the crowd would remind silent. Finally, the tributes would be whisked away, and life would go back to normal. That was how things were, that's how things would be.

"Welcome, welcome," Effie announced, her voice laced with mock enthusiasm. It wasn't the time for pleasantries, not when lives were about to be ruined, but when everything had been handed to you like it had been handed to Effie, it didn't matter. "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" She clapped her hands, frowning only slightly when the crowd did not follow suit. The crowd never cheered, why would they? District Twelve was the most frowned upon district, the only place in Panem where you could starve to death in safety, and this was only keeping them from resuming with their daily lives.

"Today is the day when one boy and one girl will be selected to compete in the Hunger Games! It is an honor to be selected to represent your District! Even more is the honor of winning. One can only have a chance at winning if they are selected!" Once again, Effie clapped, but the crowd remained deathly quiet. "Now, here is a special presentation from Mr. President Snow himself, all the way from the Capitol!"

A face appeared on the screen, the distinct eyes of President Snow staring out at the crowd. He was standing in his rose garden, holding a white flower in in his hands. It was the same video every year, the same low voice and sense of false hope. "Seventy three years ago, the world around us changed. Thirteen districts turned upon the Capitol, bit the hand that fed them and protected them. It was that day that things in Panem changed. From then on, order needed to be kept. I brought it upon myself to create The Hunger Games. Rebellion would not be tolerated. The games were created to remind those of what we lost, the innocent lives taken by the actions of so few. However, the lone survivor will be crowned with glory, for they are the hope that things do, and will get better. Have a Happy Hunger Games, District Twelve, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The screen faded to black as Effie cheered from her place on the stage. "Oh, that is my favorite one!" she squealed, as though it changed every now and again. Once more, she seemed to be disappointed by the silence in the crowd. Children and parents alike stood solemn, their faces blank as they awaited their fate. Two of them would leave, never to be seen by their family and friends again. That was how it worked. There hadn't been a winner from District Twelve in twenty three years.

The woman with lavender hair crossed the stage, moving to stand in front of a glass bowl containing the names of every girl between twelve and eighteen in the district. Some names were entered more than once, for they had taken extra rations of food for the exchange of another chance at being chosen. A lithe hand disappeared inside, fingers curling around a card that held the fate of someone in the crowd.

She hummed as she crossed the stage once more, coming back to stand in front of the microphone. "As always, ladies first!" Slowly, as if to torture the crowd, she peeled open the card, focusing on the name for only a moment before looking back up at the audience. One fate would change forever. "Your Seventy-Third Hunger Games female tribute is Sarah Puckerman! Please make your way to the stage, for this is such a huge honor!"

Commotion erupted as a boy with a mohawk struggled against the Peacekeepers, attempting to run for his sister. She was far too young, far too precious to be thrown in to this mess. He refused to let that happen. "Young man, we will use action!" one of the men barked, holding him at arm's length.

"I don't care! Let me see her! Let me see my sister!" His voice was raising, his face red with fury. How could someone do this to an innocent child, a little girl that knew nothing of the world but her daily life. Sarah didn't even know what the games were, for she had been sheltered from the terror by her mother and brother.

"Noah!" Sarah cried, unmoving in the front row. Her voice broke his heart, the terror and horror.

"I volunteer!" Noah yelled, the hands of the Peacekeepers releasing him at the announcement. "I volunteer as tribute!"

"My, my, my! What a surprise! This is the first volunteer that District Twelve has ever had! Young man, please come to the stage." Effie smiled, as if she was happy that someone was giving themselves to die.

As he marched towards the stage, his thoughts grew darker. He would fight, win. He would kill whoever he had to if it meant coming back to his sister. She was all he had, and he all that she had. Without him, there was no possible way for her to survive. If he died in the arena, another innocent life would be lost without reason. This was no longer irrational, illogical. It was a fight that started right now, right this very second. He would be damned if he lost. Losing wasn't an option. Murder wasn't murder if it was in self-defense. If the Capitol wanted a good show, that's what he would give them.

"Young man, what is your name?" Effie asked, holding the microphone out to him.

"Noah Puckerman."

"Did you volunteer to take the place of your sister, Noah?"

"Yes."

The conversation ended there as Effie cheered, rattling on about how exciting it was to have a tribute volunteer. Instead of focusing on the conversation, Rachel focused on the boy standing on the stage, appearing strong to the world. This is what she had feared for six years. Although they had never had real conversation, or even talked about their prayers to keep the other safe, it was mutual respect that bound them to each other. He was going into the arena, and there was nothing she could do to stop it, to keep him safe.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen. Due to the turn of events, I will be drawing the female tribute, as we have filled the male spot with Noah Puckerman, our volunteer." As if she was in a hurry, Effie darted across the stage, plucking a name from the bowl. She smiled to herself with excitement as she walked back to the microphone, almost appearing like a doll. Her smile was too fake, her eyes too bright. It was a wonder that she was real.

Tapping the microphone, the lavender haired woman cleared her throat. Within seconds, she was peeling the card apart, eyes scanning the small piece of paper for the name of someone in the audience. "Please welcome your Seventy-Third Hunger Games female tribute is Rachel Berry!"

A cry came from somewhere in the back, no doubt from one of her fathers. Rachel's heart seemed to stop beating, her vision fading in an out as the Peacekeepers moved closer. "There isn't any possible way that this is happening," she whispered to herself, fingers seeking out skin to pinch, hoping to awake from this nightmare. She was a tribute, forced to kill others for her own survival. She would be torn from her family, her few friends for the enjoyment. But she wouldn't cry, she would never give the Capitol the satisfaction of her tears.

The hand of a faceless Peacekeeper wrapped around her arm and instantly Rachel pulled away. She refused to be dragged, refused to seem weak. The fight began now. "I can walk on my own," she snarled, turning so that she was able to walk up the clear path to the stage. Everyone watched in silence, too stunned by the sight to say a word. Almost all tributes fell to their knees, weeping uncontrollably. As much as the brunette girl wanted to cry, she would never allow anyone the pleasure. That was what they wanted, a good show. She wasn't going to give that to them.

She climbed the steps, coming to stand next to Effie, watching the crowd. For a brief second, she caught Noah's gaze, the pain in his eyes evident. This was what they had been pushing from their minds for so long. He looked away, and so did she.

"Please welcome your District Twelve tributes with a round of applause." Not a single person clapped, only looked at the two young adults on stage with curiosity, almost as if they knew that there was something between them, as small as it might be.

They both knew what this meant, what this would do for their future. For six years they had prayed to keep the other safe, but their prayers went unheard. In order for one to live, the other would have to die. It wasn't the same as watching the other disappear into the arena to fight. They were going together.

Both knew one would not come out alive.

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><p><em>Please, please review. I want to know what I can improve on! Feel free to give suggestions as well.<em>


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